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For those of you who don’t know, I have a regular Monday night party for my girlfriends. In reality, no man passes through my front door on these nights. Girls only, bitch boy! But for little exhibitionist it’s a great scenario on which to build a filthy fantasy. Which I decided to do with R.C. a while back. I think he liked it.

I think he liked it a lot:

Good evening, Ladies.

I have been instructed by our mutual friend, Ms. Angela, to write to all of you to introduce myself. My name is R.C. Over the past month or so, I have accepted Ms. Angela’s invitation to be her loyal pet. What exactly does that mean? (I’m glad you asked, rhetorical questioners.) In addition to engaging in some lovely vanilla conversations, I have submitted to her the control of my cock–erm, her cock, as she now likes to refer to it. How did this happen, exactly? Some kind of Don Corleone-esque “offer I couldn’t refuse”? I suppose we can in fact chalk it up to Ms. Angela’s estimable powers of persuasion. After all, in a sentiment in which I believe we may all agree: “She has the pussy, She makes the rules.”

I sure my Mistress apprised you of this, but I’ll recap anyway: a few weeks back Ms. Angela spun a fantasy about a scenario where all of you ladies were in Ms. Angela’s loft for one of your Monday night gatherings, the one major wrinkle being that I had been invited along by Ms. Angela for, in the euphemistic sense, “entertainment purposes.” The scenario did get quite steamy, not that any of us would be surprised at Ms. Angela’s legendary talent for spinning a naughty yarn.

I’m not sure how in depth Ms. Angela went in her recap on her end, but in broad strokes (and hard strokes, natch) she preyed on my prominent foot fetish to persuade me to spring into action, pampering all of your perfectly pedicured toes. She even permitted me to slide my throbbing cock in between here and there to get a bit of what I coined “foot pussy.” Because a deviant foot slut like myself could not hold out for too long with the combination of that visual floating through my imagination and a particularly wicked torrent of Ms. Angela teasing, I ended up shooting quite a load of jizz all over those wiggling toes. Ms. Angela — never one to pass up a moment to literally rub my face in it — prodded me to bend down and immediately slurp up all that sperm juice from those creamy toes. So, yes, to put it bluntly, I ate my own cum. I ate my own cum FOR REAL for Mistress Angela.

I would like to profusely thank each and every one of you for playing an indirect role in that particular scenario. Even though I believe it may be your second time hearing some of this, I hope you were amused to hear it from my perspective.

Hello Ms. Diana: I understand you were the one who requested a bit of posing last night. Hope you enjoy what you saw; I personally don’t think it will win any prizes, but I’ve also been told it’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Anyway, I think I’ll let you ladies get back to the other topics that are on the agenda for tonight, as well as the Monday night programming. I appreciate your taking the time to listen, and if any interest is there and it aligns w/ Ms. Angela’s wishes, I would be happy to keep the correspondence going in the future.